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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561091">Will You Sing To Me?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinzlersGhost/pseuds/RinzlersGhost'>RinzlersGhost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>#BonjourContentChallenge [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Helm's Deep, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:40:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinzlersGhost/pseuds/RinzlersGhost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a Marchwarden of Imladris who took your wardens to Helm's Deep despite the orders of the Lord of the Valley. You rescue battle-torn captain Haldir at the sake of your own life. </p>
<p>Gildor X Reader</p>
<p>Day 3 Prompt is Injury/Angst.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gildor Inglorion/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>#BonjourContentChallenge [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Will You Sing To Me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Caun/Caun-nin - Commander/my commander<br/>Meleth/Meleth-nin - Love/my love<br/>Anno dulu enni - Help me<br/>Tirn-nin - My guardian<br/>Hir-nin - My lord<br/>Mell-nin - My beloved</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your fingers were numb, clutched around the hilt of your sword as you slew orc after orc after orc, and they just kept coming. There was no end in sight to them, and it was all you could do to keep your sword up. If you thought you had a moment, you would have regrouped your troops, but you didn’t. You couldn’t stop yourself from stepping on the bodies of your fallen comrades and swallowed the tears behind the lump in your throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were your brothers and sister in arms, and you were vastly outnumbered. You pressed all the advantages you had, which was dwindling at this point. Your back met the commander of the Galadhrim at the top of the wall, the both of you fending orcs away from your own soldiers. Aragorn’s command was so far away but you both called it back to your troops. You stepped away for a half a moment and heard the blade sluice through gaps of Elven armor, whirling on your heel to find him staggering away from the dying orc.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Caun-nin</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Your sword met the blade of the orc behind him and you were severely at a disadvantage, the blade bearing down against you, the tempered steel of your sword bowing under the weight. No, this could not be happening. You had never seen Elvish iron break, but break it did, sending the orc blade tearing into your shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pain was unbearable. You barely recognized the scream as your own, but lunged forward throughout the pain, burying the shattered sword into the orc and sending it pummeling off the wall. It was a dizzying height, you thought, have never seen it swim in front of you like this. One misstep and you would fall, your armor crushed and bent by the stone steps. Your blade was lost, your bow arm disabled... what more was there than death? Darkness ebbed into your vision as you fell, and you never felt someone catching you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Meleth-nin.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Haldir could barely breathe with the ache of his wound but he refused to let you die. You couldn’t be speaking of him; he only knew you as the commander of Imladris’ warriors that had come to assist the Galadhrim that Galadriel sent. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Meleth-nin.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You mumbled. Your wound was more serious than his; if he didn’t get you into the keep quickly and into healer’s hands, he feared you would pass from blood loss alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Anno dulu enni!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Haldir gasped, coming up behind his troops. “The Imladris commander is wounded, badly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re wounded, </span>
  <em>
    <span>caun-nin</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” The healers were swamped, trying their best to work quickly to staunch bleeding and patch troops to send back into the field.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Caun-nin</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Haldir swayed on his feet, feeling woozy. Someone came to take you from his shoulders, another helping him to the ground, exposing the wound on his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” He glanced over sharply to realize that the person who had taken you from him was none other than an Imladris healer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a strong word.” The healer glanced up briefly before turning their attention back to you, trying to staunch the bleeding with a healing spell instead of a binding or stitches. The blade had cut deep. By the time he got the bleeding stopped, your face showed the pallor of blood loss. Your eyes stared vacantly through the hubbub, the insurmounting reality of it all finally setting in. Haldir could see the word on your lips, even if you had no voice left to speak it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Meleth-nin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know them?” Haldir asked softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know they weren’t supposed to be here.” The healer replied, bandaging your arm carefully. “They were asked not to come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are </span>
  <em>
    <span>caun </span>
  </em>
  <span>though! Aren’t all commanders supposed to lead troops into battle?” Haldir asked, wincing as his wound was cleaned and patched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Their unit was asked not to come.” The healer clarified. “They are marchwardens, and their duty is to the borders of Imladris. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hir-nin </span>
  </em>
  <span>Elrond will not be pleased.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And the one they call for?” Haldir asked. “Their </span>
  <em>
    <span>meleth</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not imagine he will be pleased either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tirn-nin.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> You breathed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Meleth-nin.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> You struggled through the pain, trying to remember what your husband looked like. The wound clouded your ability to think straight, and finally the exhaustion overtook your urge to struggle and you were lost to unconsciousness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s hope they last the battle. Let’s hope we last the battle.” He breathed. Haldir tried to stand and go back out, but he too was pushed back onto a makeshift cot when he could barely stand. He echoed in the sentiment quietly. He hoped they would last the battle.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>When Gandalf returned with the Riders of Rohan on the fifth day, it wasn’t just the Eorlingas he was joined by, but also warriors of Imladris, seasoned warriors who fought ruthlessly. Haldir was able to stand and fight, though the wound still plagued him and he counted Glorfindel, Lord Elrond, and many others among the elves who poured onto the battlefield. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the time came to mourn the dead and celebrate their victory, Haldir returned to the makeshift healing wards, for his own wound was irritated and he was tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are so many.” A voice behind him murmured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We lost so much more.” Haldir replied, stepping aside to let the other ellon pass. He received a grateful look in return, the red armor of Imladris on his form stained dark with orc blood, but no visible wounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hir-nin</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gildor.” The Imladris healer had never left, Haldir realized.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me they are alive.” Gildor whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alive yes, but succumbed to unconsciousness by blood loss. They have not woken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Foolish.” Gildor murmured, taking your form into his arms as he curled up on the cot with you. “Foolish little warden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They saved my life.” Haldir remarked. “They called for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Gildor whispered. “I should have gone with them. We fought. They left the Valley in anger against Elrond’s orders. And now I may never...” His voice caught, eyes closing in pain. Haldir bowed his head to his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Meleth-nin.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gildor’s voice was broken. It was so, so quiet for the longest time. The chatter of the halls was only a buzz in the healing wards. Haldir was almost, almost asleep when a voice broke the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tirn-nin,</span>
  </em>
  <span> will you sing to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mell-nin.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
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